Preschooler trivia! Can you take the heat?

Jul 30, 2012

Image via sxc

I have decided that I am going to start a parenting class. There will be a whole series, covering the usual stuff — birth, sleep, sadness, regret, etc. Then, in the final class, when everybody thinks they’ve got this shit on lock-down and they are ready to go, that’s when I prepare them for the toughest challenge of parenting a young child. It’s time to play “Questions From A Preschooler”, motherfuckers! OH YEAH! And you thought you were bad, huh? Now who wants to give me advice on how to get my kid to sleep?! That’s what I THOUGHT.

It will be an oral exam, and we will do it while driving on the highway, with me in the backseat asking the questions at a pitch and intensity typically seen only when evacuating a nursing home during a fire.

Here are the test questions. Are you ready? Doesn’t matter. Here we go:

1. What is a chicken enchilada called? And also, what is a chicken?

2. What is this cut on my finger called?

3. Why?

4. Why?

5. Why?

6. When is next week?

7. So, the day after tomorrow?

8. Two days after tomorrow?

9. I am going to say the days of the week. Stop me when I get to next week. Ok?

10. Where do socks come from?

11. Can I have a gronlong?

12. No — a GRON-long. Can I have a GRON-long?

13. A GRONLONG! GRONLONG GRONLONG GRONLONG!!!!!!

14. Did you know that the word “right” has the word “right” in it?

15. When you die, will you still be my mommy/daddy?

16. I’ve decided I don’t want to wear pants when we get to the mall. Convince me otherwise.

17. Good job. I shall wear pants. But I won’t go to the mall.

18. Mall or pants. Your call. YOU CANNOT HAVE BOTH.

19. What does that word “sexy” mean?

20. Excellent. I have some more questions for you about your penis/vagina, but I will wait to ask those at Pizza Hut.

“It’s friendship, friendship, just the perfect blendship……”

Jan 27, 2012

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine shared a story with me about her son getting turned away by some kids at preschool that he wanted to play with. He asked if he could play with them, and they said no. The poor boy went and hid, his head hanging low. My friend said that her heart was completely broken for him. Mine was too. This is one of those experiences as a parent that I know is coming, but I am dreading. Like Heidi Klum and Seal’s divorce (the angels are weeping, people).

One of the pleasures and pains of parenting is re-living your childhood through your kids. On one hand, you get to do awesome things like watch cartoons and go to the playground — both of which are somewhat creepy if you do them as an adult sans child. Yes, yes, I know, you are connected to your inner child and have an adorable innocence about you. I’m just saying that if you are 35 and have to get off the swings so you can rush home to catch an episode of Pinky Dinky Doo, you might want to sit down with a friend who won’t lie to you.

On the other hand, you get to experience the embarrassment and tears involved in childhood friendships all over again. And I don’t know about you, but making and maintaining friendships has never been my strong suit. Some of the experiences I had as a child were so very bad that I think I have developed an over-sensitive radar when it comes to my kids and how they get along with others. At the parent teacher meetings at my children’s preschool, the teacher wants to talk about how well the kids know their numbers and letters, and the only question I have is, “How do they get along with the other kids? Who do they play with?” I have this panicky fear that my child is sitting in the corner playing by themselves all day. That would rip my heart to pieces. Luckily, this does not seem to be the case so far. But whenever we are out at the playground or  the community center, and I see my kids talking to a child they don’t know, I hold my breath. I say a silent prayer — “Please, please let them be nice to my child. Please let them play together.”

The twins are at the age where those slights are going to start happening and they are going to understand that they are being rejected. And it is going to hurt. The thought of someone (even if it is another 4-year-old) making my child feel unwanted is awful. I was the target of mass hatred twice in my younger days. Not once, TWICE. Because I just couldn’t get enough of the feeling of being ostracized the first time around, I suppose. In both situations, people who I lived with — about 10-15 people — all apparently had some kind of board meeting and decided that I suuuuuuuuuuuuuucked. It was hell. And it is really hard to recover your self-esteem after the people you share a bathroom with decide that there is no one in this world that they dislike more than you. Huh……….you don’t think the two things are related, do you? “Yeah, we thought Meredith was cool at first too, but have you ever shared a bathroom with her? Then you don’t know, man. You don’t know.” Whatever. I’m sure it is just a coincidence.

I know that I can’t protect my children from that kind of pain, and I wouldn’t necessarily want to. A certain degree of social misery is important from time to time. I hate to use the cliché that it “builds character”, but you know what? It does. I just don’t know how I am going to respond when they come to me and say that Sally or Bobby didn’t want to play with them or made fun of them. What I am going to want to do is burst into tears and clutch them to my chest yelling, “OH MY BABY! MY BABY!” I am no child psychologist, but I have a feeling that would be considered a misstep. Do I encourage them to try to make friends with Sally/Bobby another day? Kill them with kindness? My first reaction to that is, “Fuck no! Fuck ’em! You don’t need them!” So then what? I certainly would not encourage them to be mean to the other child in return. Even if the little fucker is begging for it.

Maybe a revised version of the “fuck ’em” statement would be best? Maybe if I tell them that this is just a snapshot in their life and 10 years from now they probably won’t even remember these kids’ names, let alone what they said. That they are more than what one person — or 15 people — say about them?

As long as I can clutch them to me and say, “Oh my baby……my baby……..”, I think we’ll both get through it.